


Zero to Sixty

by Buffy (BuffyScribbles)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Smut, Topping from the Bottom, barry's got a thing for len's eyes and his blowjobs, bottom!len, purposeful smut, quick burn not slow burn, there's hinted plot type stuff at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5725750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuffyScribbles/pseuds/Buffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything in Barry's life is completely normal until suddenly, not so much. Barry can't even, once the dreams start, and its a rapid downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zero to Sixty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Syrum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/gifts).



> Hello new fandom. I've got a bunch of snippets of coldflash half written, but this sort of spilled out while I was working on another fic for another fandom. If its terrible, its for that reason, and also I only edited for typos. My apologies.

Barry didn’t know when they’d gone from a snark filled game of cops and robbers to one filled with double entendres and heated looks, but at some point they had.

And, at some point, perfectly blue green eyes had started to feature in his increasingly frequent dreams (as in his physical dreams at night, yeah, _those_ ).

He was so sure that he was just going crazy. Maybe some type of psychological meta related side effect…thing, or something, because there was absolutely no _way_ he had fallen for Captain Cold.

Except that he kind of had.

When he thought of Cold (Lenny, he’d heard Lisa Snart use, and wondered if that was a sibling thing or what non-Flash individuals got to call him) his heart began to race and his dick started to ache and after a few weeks of it, there was nothing for it.

Barry had to get Cold (Leonard. Lenny?) out of his brain completely. Maybe he could give himself selective amnesia somehow, and completely forget he existed.

Or he’d just forget him, have to deal with him all over again because _criminal_ , and probably be back in the same spot all over again anyhow.

So, Barry ran. He needed more than just a jog around the gem cities for this particular conundrum. The Black Hills of South Dakota whizzed past him, the static of the speedforce singing through him. 

_“That’s just right, isn’t it, Scarlet?”_

_Barry moaned, throwing his head back against the pillow as his hands pressed over Cold’s head between his thighs._

Barry skidded to a stop. Mount Rushmore loomed before him, but he hardly took note of it, breath coming in soft pants. It wasn’t the sprinting that had his chest heaving, but rather the phantom sensation of hands that had never truly _touched_ him.

This wasn’t working.

Maybe he hadn’t given it enough time?

||||||

“Barry, anyone home?” The sound of Iris’ laughter pulled Barry from wherever he’d gone when he zoned out ( _cool hands and a velvet smooth laugh)_.

“What? Oh I’m sorry I guess I’m distracted,” Barry offered his best friend a sheepish grin, scrubbing a hand through his hair and sitting up a little straighter in his chair at their table at Jitters.

“I’ll say,” she teased, sipping on her iced coffee and eyes sparkling in obvious amusement. “Is it that newbie CSI I’ve seen around the station,” Iris asked and Barry nearly spat out his coffee.

“What? No um, nothing like that, no.” Barry knew he was beyond terrible at hiding anything, he just hoped Iris had it in her to leave it alone. 

She shifted forward and that glint was in her eyes and Barry was seriously considering just bolting in that moment when his phone rang. 

“Oh Cisco thank god,” he blurted as he picked up his phone to answer it. “Tell me there’s a crisis.”

“There’s a crisis.”

||||||

The crisis was Grodd related. Barry wasn’t sure if he’d been dreading an appearance from Captain Cold, or hoping for one.

Both, maybe?

Team Flash had dealt with the super powered primate successfully, and while it had actually been not as insane as most of the rest of his life had been lately, Barry somehow felt a little more sluggish than usual. Tired, in ways he wasn’t used to much anymore. 

Typically, Barry tended to wear Under Armour gear beneath his suit, and while today was no exception it felt inordinately difficult to peel the skin tight clothing from his body. His destination was the shower, and after that a pint of chunky monkey sounded perfect.

Barry laughed outloud at the irony of his choice as he started the shower.

Everything had been going according to plan. Hot water, Irish Spring, and an internal monologue about whether or not Futurama or Friends went best with Ben and Jerry’s.

_“Is that cold enough for you, Red?” Len was trailing an ice cube along his inner thigh, and warming away the goosebumps left in its wake with his tongue._

“God damnit,” Barry groaned, hand holding his bar of soap momentarily going still over his stomach.

_“No?” Len smirked, and pressed the wedge of ice into his palm, gliding it over his hips and lower belly. His tongue laved flat, back and forth over the head of Barry’s erection._

“Ohhh fuck.” He was moaning, now, just quiet enough to be drowned out by the water, and that bar of soap started to drift downwards. It was inevitable, but Barry felt so illicit when he worked up a lather and set the soap aside to take his own cock in hand.

_The tongue wasn’t enough, but that’s all Len seemed willing to give for now. The ice had melted to a sliver, now, a glistening line of wetness streaked over Barry’s abdomen._

Barry was a goner. Part of him knew it, eyes twisted up, falling further into this variant of fantasy, though imagining Len’s head between his legs had been a general theme. “Please….”

_Len smirked, and sucked just the head of Barry into his mouth. Dark lashes fanned over tanned cheekbones, and Barry was done for._

He cried out, come splattering onto the floor of the shower, washed away before he’d even opened his eyes from his climax.

“...I’m so fucked.”

||||||

If only.

It was five days later, and Barry had lost count of Cold-inspired jerk off sessions somewhere around seven. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about it during Flash business, and usually he mostly sort of had a handle on the problem.

Until he was staring down the barrel of Cold’s gun.

“...thought I’d give up my enterprise in Central City?”

“Huh?” Cold’s eyes were really, really interesting. Like, kind of half blue and half green with the green in the middle.

“You seem to be off your game, Flash. Feeling alright,” Cold’s voice was its usual distinct veneered gruff but Barry was sure he heard genuine...care? No. Curiosity, maybe?

Fuck.

“Yeah, I’m fine, can we move on to the part where you give me your lame one liners and I kick your ass?”

Cold grinned, and Barry felt his heart flip at the sight.

||||||

This was not good. This was so, so, so very not good.

Cold had gotten away, and _Barry_ couldn’t get away from the fact that he’d let him.

Semi-sort of let him get away. In the sense that yeah, he had been off his game, missing the edge necessary to stay one step ahead of his opponents.

It was those damned eyes. Barry hadn’t ever thought about anyone’s eyes so extensively, but it was the intrusion of them in his dreams that had started him on this mess in the first place.

How would those eyes darken with lust, he wondered? With pleasure? Barry’s hand on Len’s cock and his tongue down his throat and bodies twisted up in sheets and sin--

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck.”

||||||

There was nothing about this particular Friday that had been noteworthy for Leonard Snart.

Lisa had gone on a shopping spree that Len had gotten an earful about, he’d finalized the last details of a job he’d been contracted for (two days off and he could already feel the buzz of adrenalin gearing him up) and was topping his evening off with a few rounds of pool and a few more of Budweiser.

“Hey uh. Hi. Can we talk somewhere?”

Len didn’t have to look behind him to know who that was. Barry (nee, Flash). The corner of his lips twitched up, and Len hardened the expression into a smirk of disguise before he turned.

“Here to convince me to do the right thing? Because that went so well for you the first time around.”

The kid shifted from foot to foot, and Len’s eyebrows nearly shot up. Nearly. Barry’s non-reaction to his needling was more telling than anything he might’ve actually said.

“Um no, I’m not. Um.” His eyes were shifty, and hands slipped into his pockets. The nerves were obvious. “ _Canwetalksomewhere?_ ”

Len hesitated, considering, though his stony facade didn’t waver. His instinct to assume the worst was something he was accustomed to. Even with Barry, though, the following urge to throw caution to the wind was unexpected.

He gestured towards a door that he knew led to a staircase and up to a private office. Barry eyed him, unsure for a moment.

“You want privacy? This is the best I’ve got, red.” He smirked when Barry flushed, writing it off as the kid’s usual brand of embarrassment. 

“Yeah, okay.” Barry headed that way and Len dropped his outstretched arm, following.

Len assumed this had to do with the way he’d iced Barry to the wrong end of a bank vault door and darted out of a hole blown into the side of a wall of safety deposit boxes about a week ago.

The office was deserted, as Len had anticipated, and he closed the door behind him, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the coat rack in the corner.

“So,” Len prompted.

“Yeah. Right. Okay. So, I’m not really sure how to ask this, I mean, it's crazy, right? You hate me, and I kind of hate you, and you’re Captain Cold and I’m The Flash --by the way did you know we’re _action figures_ now-- and that means some fairly specific things and boundaries and you know what? Never mind, I shouldn’t’ve come here this was--”

Throughout Barry’s word salad, Len had managed to read between the lines. He was certain enough that he’d gotten the general gist that he felt there was minimal risk in striding forward and placing three fingers over his lips to hush him.

“I’m glad you came.” It was honest, and came out too soft.

Barry’s barked laughter jerked Len back an inch. “You have no idea how. Yeah.” Len arched an eyebrow, and there was tentative relief on Barry’s face. One of them would have to reveal their cards. 

“Yeah?”

Len hoped it was enough.

||||||

Barry’s anxiety and angst had built up so much that the slightest bit of encouragement had been enough to send him straight over the emotional edge and firmly into _’fuck it’_ territory.

“Yeah.” Barry checked himself. This was it. The fork in the road, and while his words had basically sealed his fate, there was no coming back from actions.

Len’s lips were warmer than he thought they’d be on first contact. He’d zipped forward, pressing his mouth to the rogue’s and curling his hands into his shirt.

Barry’s first taste of overwhelming relief came in the form of a vibrating groan under his fists. Len’s hand was in his hair a moment later, and he was being walked back into the door and this was already more of a turn on than anything his limited imagination had come up with.

His cock was already rock solid, but that had been the case for weeks now no matter how many times he came with Len’s name on his lips.

Barry gasped out when Len’s mouth started down his throat. “Len,” he groaned, without thought, and nearly whined when the man stilled.

“Again,” he heard. It took him a few seconds to catch up to that and Barry laughed, flushed and too interested in fulfilling some of those fantasies to want to use too much of his brain (because that was the last bastion of reason left in his whole being and Barry firmly just didn’t care anymore).

 _“Len,”_ he moaned, long and lewd, breathy on the vowel and full of equal want and promise.

Something had caught the older man’s attention, because suddenly their faces were inches apart and those _damned_ eyes again. 

Barry had never really been able to read Cold, and Len proved to be just as unforthcoming. He knew he was an open book, but especially in contrast. He let himself imagine the nights he’d spent driving himself wild with lust-filled thoughts, muffling his moans into a pillow and aching with want of Len’s mouth while he orgasmed.

“Len,” he murmured, reaching out and thumbing over his bottom lip. Barry didn’t know what was happening, and it was as frightening as it was thrilling. He could only hope that his stupidity didn’t result in absolute devastation, and that he wasn’t embarking on the biggest mistake of his entire existence.

And then, Len started to kneel.

“What’re you….” Barry’s heart was pounding, and maybe he’d actually just fallen asleep somewhere and figured out how to lucid dream and --nope.

His dick was tugged from behind his now open zipper, and Len’s lips had wrapped around the ridge of the head, right hand braced to the root and yeah no, this was definitely real.

Len sucked and Barry had to clamp a hand over his mouth. It barely muffled the sharp cry he couldn’t hold in.

“Don’t. They can’t hear,” Len had pulled back, and Barry looked down and...he nearly felt faint.

Len’s lips were swollen already, perfectly crimson and sheened with saliva. His tongue came out to chase Barry’s taste before Barry could let his eyes wander even more.

He moved his hand away from his mouth and their gazes locked. 

For someone known for everything chilly, the fire that sparked in Len’s eyes was nothing short of smoldering. “Okay just, oh _god_ please don’t stop.”

His laugh was an octave deeper than Barry was used to and all he could really think to do was groan and thump his head back into the solid oak door.

Barry’s hands naturally found the back of Len’s head as the head of his cock was engulfed once more. Len’s tongue pressed back and forth across his slit, almost ruthlessly, and it had his toes curling in his converse. When he whimpered, Len got the hint and moved on, curling the flat of his tongue to rub up the underside of Barry’s erection.

It was pure pleasure, cutting off all complicated thought until Barry was little more than a whimpering, squirming mess, pinned to the door by the force of Len’s talented mouth and tongue and little else.

He nearly bucked his hips forward when Len casually lowered his head until his lips were pressed to Barry’s stomach. The aching pleasure made his whole body curl forward, one hand slipping down to clasp at the back of his neck.

“Oh my _fuck_ fuck you gotta stop.” Barry was tugging at his shoulder insistently, and Len sat back on his haunches, running the back of his hand over his mouth. He grinned up at Barry like the cat that got the canary. Or the cream, whichever.

“That good, huh,” he smirked. Barry was flushed and panting and he managed to return the grin with one of his own.

“Not gonna complain, not for a second,” he breathed. Barry didn’t know what he was doing, or what would happen or really anything outside of this little unspoken bubble of ‘what happens here stays here’, but what he did know was he had to have Len. Desperately wanted and had wanted (And would probably continue to want, though Barry was ignoring _that_ thank you) the man, and now that he had him Barry wasn’t going to be satisfied with just a quick orgasm or two.

In a last ditch effort to hang onto his dignity, he offered Len a smile and pointed over his shoulder. Len stood as he spoke. “There’s um. I noticed there’s a couch over there?”

Barry watched as Len twisted to look over his shoulder at the brown leather sofa, and started to tug his shirt off while he turned back to Barry. “Yeah, I know,” he smirked, leaning in and kissing him sharply, reaching around Barry to flip the two deadbolts on the door.

“How do you want to do this, Scarlet?”

Barry bit his lip, nearly squirming under the direct question. He thought maybe it was a good opening to try for sexy. And, while he was getting his fantasies fulfilled, may as well ask for one.

Still blushing, he smiled and leaned forward, smearing a kiss over Len’s jaw as an afterthought on his way to his ear.

“I keep thinkin’ about what it would be like to feel you around my dick.”

Barry didn’t want to judge but Len hadn’t exactly struck him as the...type, but his worries dissolved when he heard Len’s throat catch and a breath sharply get sucked in.

“....yeah, yeah okay.”

There was something….it was instinct, thoughts not even forming words as he pulled back to look at those eyes. 

Barry touched Len’s cheek, and kissed his lips once. Twice.

The third time, his passion caught up to him and he tugged Len flush against him, digging his tongue into the man’s mouth and chasing his own taste as deep as he could get.

“Couch, Barry, need the couch,” Len’s voice broke through the kisses. Barry gave back a muffled response, unwilling to pull away even as he pushed Len back towards the sofa.

It was only once they were there that the kiss broke, Len sensing the furniture behind his calves and leaning back on it. 

Barry’s grin was wolfish as he pulled off his jacket and shirt, throwing it aside and kicking off his shoes. It was hurried, but eventually the clothes were piled, and Barry had a brief notion of surprise at how toned Len apparently was before he was climbing over top of him.

The kiss started up again, just as needy and desperate as slick tongue and lips allowed them to get lost in one another. 

Barry was kneeling between Len’s thighs, his soon-to-be-lover’s left leg curled up against his side. It was instinct for Barry to press down already, seeking friction. When their cocks met between their hard stomachs, they broke the kiss on twin gasps.

“Oh fuck Len,” Barry’s words panted out quick, humid in the space between their mouths.

“Yeah...yeah, fuck Len.” Barry huffed out a laugh, Len’s humor apparently deeply ingrained but he didn’t even care because _yeah._

It wasn’t glamorous but it would get the job done, and Barry lifted his hand up to spit. He rubbed the saliva up against Len’s entrance, leaning back to watch his face.

Len wasn’t an open book but he was easier to read. His eyes were what gave him away, and Barry focused in on them as he urged just one finger into his lover.

“You’re not...gonna break me you know,” Len moaned and shifted, hooking his right leg over the back of the couch and opening his body up even more, as much as he could given their locale.

“I know just...don’t wanna be a selfish jerk,” Barry panted. Len laughed and nodded, looking like he wanted to add something but then Barry worked in a second finger and the man’s train of thought visibly derailed.

“Yes….yes, that’s good. Just like that, real smooth,” Len hummed, reaching up and finding Barry’s hair again. He threw an arm over his eyes and Barry was sure he’d never seen him so relaxed.

By the time he’d managed to stretch Len open on three fingers, Barry was moaning and nearly thrumming, and Len was gasping and rocking his hips down into each upstroke of fingers.

“I think you’re--” “God Barry just give it--”

There was fumbling for a wallet and a condom and a concern about the expiration date but ultimately, it wasn’t that long before Barry was lining himself up.

“Remember, real smooth Barry,” Len panted. Barry nodded, splaying one hand on Len’s chest. The other was wrapped about the base of his erection for control, hoping he was doing this the way Len wanted and sinking in inch by steady inch.

“.... _ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmygod.”_

The groan of pure satisfaction was enough to make Barry’s hips jerk forward, just once, before he reigned himself in and bottomed out.

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuck Len.”

Barry had both hands braced on the arm of the couch, behind Len’s head, arched over his lover. Their forehead weren’t quite touching, and they both had their eyes closed tight.

“ _Move_ , Barry,” Len gasped.

Barry didn’t realize it until he rocked back, to press forward, but Len’s legs had twined around his waist. _Real smooth,_ he reminded himself, concentrating on making his dick glide in and out of his lover the way Len seemed so intent on.

“Like that?”

“Yes...yeah, Barry, just like that,” he breathed. Barry watched in a daze as the heat sparked through him, Len’s eyes as they stayed unfocused, his arm curling back over the plush of the couch behind his head. He knew Len was good looking but until now had no _idea_ how beautiful the man was.

_Fuck._

“I’m not...fuck, Len I’m not gonna last,” he panted. Barry swallowed hard, belatedly wishing he had better stamina but there was nothing for it now.

“‘s okay,” Len panted. The man reached for his hips, urging Barry to still. The speedster did, looking at Len with a bit of confusion until he let go.

“Okay. Okay, c’mon, just fuck me now,” Len urged. He offered Barry his best smirk but it was wan, and lustfilled. Barry’s moan was borne of the sheer want he saw in his lover’s eyes, leaning down and crashing their lips together as he rocked his hips back and slammed forward hard. Len threw his head back and threw out a shout.

“Yes, _yes Barry_.” Barry nods in hasty agreement. The slick sound of his cock pumping in and out of Len’s body and the scrape of the couch across the wood floor paired with their pants and gasps to charge the energy of the room. Barry could feel himself responding to it, and had to force himself to stop when he felt his hips moving too fast.

Len wasn’t a meta human, and Barry wouldn’t allow himself to hurt someone in such a way. Period. “Len, Len I--”

There were those three fingers again. “It’s okay, I get it,” Len breathed. He replaced those fingers with his lips, before he prodded at Barry’s shoulder.

Barry got the message, pulling back and grunting softly when he slipped from his lover’s body. He followed Len’s direction, sitting in the middle of the couch. Len’s knee pressed on the couch beside him and he slung his leg across Barry’s thighs to straddle him. “Wha--”

A strangled cry choked out of Barry’s throat as suddenly Len sunk down over him. “There. No need to panic,” Len breathed. His hands curled over Barry’s shoulders, and he started to move.

There was nothing Barry could do but sit there while Len impaled himself on his dick over and over again. He’d started a relentless pace, at first, but then seemed to think better of it and slowed.

Barry was grateful for the change of venue if only because it had given him almost a minute to cool down, but by the time Len was circling his hips in his lap Barry had been ramped all the way back up again.

“Oh god, fuck, Len you feel….better than I, ohfuck,” Barry’s words were falling past his lips uncontrollably, a barely cohesive mess. His hips were starting to buck up, heat and want beginning to converge in the base of his groin and his hands flew to Len’s hips. “Fuck, _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckreally_ liked that.

At some point, Len had to have climaxed also because by the time Barry slumped back against the couch there was come on his stomach and chest.

They were both out of breath, and after another few seconds, Len was climbing off him and depositing himself besides Barry on the couch.

Barry didn’t want to turn his head. He didn’t want to look to his left, because that’s where Len was sitting and even though Barry could probably go another few rounds, there was a lull where his brain was coming back to itself and he’d definitely just fucked the _hell_ out of Captain Cold.

Barry glanced to his left, to see Len smirking. Their eyes met and Len arched an eyebrow, lacing his fingers behind his head.

“Took you long enough, red.”

Barry blinked, and then laughed, long and relieved, grabbing the throw pillow that had gotten kicked to the floor and whacking Len in the chest with it. “You’re such an ass.”

“Maybe so. Lucky for you.” Len smirked and leaned over, framing a hand against the side of Barry’s face and pressing their lips together tightly. “Next time, your ass is mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I've been promising to write Syrum coldflash for like, weeks now, and yay I finally did! I do hope you like it :)
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: Oh I forgot, I sort of jacked the Black Hills thing from the new 52, except its the badlands instead of salt flats.


End file.
